


I Think I Do

by StupidGenius



Series: Tumblr AUs/prompts (Sterek) [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 'cept Clauida she's very much still dead, Alive Hale Family, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Derek, Baker Stiles Stilinski, Car Accidents, Everybody Lives, Hospitals, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, M/M, Near Death, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 20:13:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4450655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had paint all over his jeans and torso – which didn’t have a shirt on it, by the way. Stiles was kind of amazed someone could be that fit. And that stubble. Those cheekbones. Damn.</p><p>“E-excuse me?” He called. Hot Shirtless Paint Guy glared at him, and Stiles gulped. “You can’t be in here.”</p><p>“Yes I can.” The guy grunted.</p><p>“Uh, no, no you can’t. We only serve fully clothed people, and you’re kind of …lacking...in that department.”</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Edited 2015-10-03</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think I Do

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Sterek: we were fighting in the car on our way home and oH SHIT I DIDNT SEE THAT TRUCK FUCK WAKE UP DONT LEAVE ME ALONE IN THIS WORLD AU pls
> 
> Another car crash AU! Love these angsty prompts people send me, seriously. Hopefully, this one is much different than the last one i wrote. 
> 
> It's a lot less angsty, I think.

Derek walked into his life on a Friday, covered in paint and half naked.

It was the worst Friday of his life.

They hated each other. Derek did _everything_ wrong. He was the guy that cut cupcakes in half and ate them like a sandwich. He didn’t separate the Kit-Kats before eating them, he put ketchup directly on his fries, and he drank his coffee black and bitter.

Just like his fucking soul.

Stiles worked at Talia’s Diner at the time, and Derek had just moved back from New York. That day, Stiles had been yelled at by rude ass costumers, thrown up on because some idiot decided to get drunk at 2 in the afternoon, Got hit on by the very same alpha douche that threw up on him, and slipped and fell twice. And Derek had come in, all angry because is painting was apparently shit (it wasn’t), acting like he owned the place (technically he did), and to top it all off, he reeked of Alpha. So of course they hated each other. They didn’t get off on a good start. But Talia (Surprise, she’s Derek’s mom and Stiles’ boss. Amazing) had figured out how to bring them together.

It’s been five years since then. They’d seen each other through some rough shit. Survived a fire together. Maybe that was what finally pushed them together.

Didn’t change the fact that they still argued.

A lot.

“I don’t understand why your showers take so fucking long. I mean, what the fuck do you do in there? Do you have to install a new shower head every time you use it?” Stiles snapped, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“I don’t take a long time. _You_ take a long time. You used up all the hot water.”

“Once, Derek. Once. I had somewhere important to be.”

“You were going to spend the day at the bakery, that’s hardly –” Derek cuts off, realizing what he was about to say. “Stiles –”

“That's my mother’s bakery.” Stiles says quietly.

“I didn’t mean –”

“Then what did you mean, Derek?” He turns to look at him. “That me baking isn’t as important as –”

“Stiles!”

There’s the sound of glass shattering, and then.

Then dark.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Remind me why I won’t quit again?” Stiles grumbled, slumming down until his forehead was pressed against the counter. “Why I can’t just open up that bakery mom always wanted?”_

_“Because you love me and you need the money.” Talia pat his back and ruffled his hair.  He groaned._

_“Today’s been the worst.”_

_“I’ve banned that woman, Stiles. She won’t be bothering you again.” She assured him._

_“Doesn’t make today suck any less.” He stood up straighter and grabbed a rag from the back to start whipping down tables before the evening rush. It was only 3 in the afternoon, but if he cleaned up now Talia would probably let him have the rest of the day off. "Why does every old Alpha think Omegas should be married and pregnant by the age of 22? I mean, really? Did she have to get on my case about that?"_

_“Just can't deal with modern times, I guess." Talia tsk's. "Okay, I’m heading out for a bit.” His boss said, Grabbing her keys. “I’ll be back in an hour. If my son comes by, call me, Okay?”_

_“No problem.” Stiles sighed. Talia paused at the door._

_“I really should give you a raise.” She decided (Stiles didn’t expect her to actually do it, but the woman is full of surprises)._

_Not even a minute after she left, someone practically slammed the door open, and when Stiles looked up, his jaw almost dropped to the floor. Because that…that had to be some sort of Greek god, with the pale green eyes and the dark shiny hair. He had paint all over his jeans and torso – which didn’t have a shirt on it, by the way. Stiles was kind of amazed someone could be that fit, even if the guy was an Alpha. And that stubble. Those cheekbones. Damn._

_“E-excuse me?” He called. Hot Shirtless Paint Guy glared at him, and Stiles gulped. “You can’t be in here.”_

_“Yes I can.” The guy grunted._

_“Uh, no, no you can’t. We only serve fully clothed people, and you’re kind of …lacking in that department.” Not that he really minded, but Talia would kill him._

_“I don’t care.”_

_“Rude.” He snapped, putting his hands on his hips. “You need to leave.”_

_“I’m allowed to be here.”_

_“I really doubt it, buddy. Either come back with a shirt or don’t come back at all.” He pointed towards the door. Hot Shirtless Paint Guy turned and growled at him – no, really, he actually growled._

_“I’m Derek Hale.”_

_That changed things._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Stiles opens his eyes, they’re sideways. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out, and everything hurts. His vision is too blurry, fading in and out around the edges. He tries to move, but when he does, a shooting pain goes up the whole left side of his body, and he cries out. When he can finally see clearly, he sees that his leg is pinned between the door and his seat. The car is laying on the driver’s side, so there’s no way he can get it out.

“Derek.” He mumbles, blinking and looking around. “Derek.” He says, louder this time.

Derek’s next to him, body hanging down at a weird angle. There’s blood dripping across his face from somewhere on his head. He’s not moving.

“Shit. Derek!” He yells. “Derek, wake up!” He doesn’t know much about head injuries, but he heard that long periods of unconsciousness is definitely not a good thing. “Oh god.” He moans.

Every time he tries to move, it jostles his leg, and he only ends up screaming in pain. His chest hurts, and it takes a moment to realize the wetness on his face wasn’t just tears. He winces when he feels a small piece of glass in his cheek. He can’t get it out with his hands shaking so badly, and he doesn’t really care to at the moment. Derek isn't waking up.

He vaguely remembers a truck. He wasn’t paying attention to the road, but Derek…Derek screamed his name.

“Derek.” He coughs, and that’s blood. Blood dripping down his face. Coughing blood is never a good sign. “Please don’t die.” He reaches out, biting back a yelp, and pressed his finger’s against Derek’s neck.

His pulse was weak, but it was there.

“Come on Der. You can’t…y’can’t…can’t leave me al’ne.” He pants. He tries to move again, and is just met with more pain.

“COME ON!” He cried. “Please. Derek! Don’t die…please.” He closes his eyes.

This isn’t how this weekend is supposed to go. They're supposed to just have a nice time in LA and then come back home for thanks giving. But then he had to go and fight with Derek, about how long he takes in the shower, of all things. Fuck.

Fuck, he can’t breathe.

There’s a ringing somewhere, and after a second, he realizes it’s his phone.

His phone still works?

It takes several tries, but he unlocks it, and tries to listen through the fog in his mind.

“Son, you were…here ten minutes ago.”

“Dad?” He groans, coughing.

“Are…okay? Where are you!?” he sucks in a pained breath. "Stiles!”

“C-crash. Pr’serve. D’rek’s…” he whimpers. “Hurts.” He closes his eyes.

“Shit, I’m coming Stiles. How bad is it?”

“Stiles?”

“Sti…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_The flames were everywhere. Smoke stung his eyes and burned his lungs, and his head hurt. But he had to get it. He couldn’t just leave it there. It was too important. It was all he had left of her, her little book of recipes._

_“Stiles!” That’s –_

_That’s Derek._

_“Get –” He coughed, gripping the hot counter top. “Get out of here!”_

_“I’m not leaving you, what the fuck are you doing?!”_

_“My mom’s –” He doubled over coughing again. He was in there too long, he knew, but he still couldn’t find it. He needed to find it. “I can’t – I can’t leave without it.”_

_“You’re going to die!” Derek…might have been looking at him like he was insane. He couldn’t tell, everything was all…fuzzy._

_“Derek...”_

_“Fuck, okay, okay.” Derek coughed into his elbow. “What am I looking for?”_

_“We’re insane.” He croaked. A beam from the ceiling fell then, just a few feet away._

_“That’s it.” He heard Derek say, and then he was being lifted off the ground. By Derek.  
“Hey!” He coughed, blinking slowly. “I can’t – I can’t leave it – Derek –”_

_“I got it.” something was pressed into his hands, and its covered in soot and singed, but it’s okay._

_It’s okay._

 

 

* * *

 

 

When he wakes up, someone’s holding his hand. His head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and his body’s kind of floaty. He knows he’s in the hospital by the smells and sounds. The beeping coming by his bed, the people talking in hushed tones, that weird, lemon disinfectant smell.

The hand in his is too small to be his father’s and when he opens his eyes, he sees that it isn’t.

It’s Laura.

“Laur…” He whispers, trying to open his eyes a bit more to look at her. She jerks when he calls her, and then smiles widely at him.

“Hey! Look who’s finally awake!”

“Fucking took you long enough.” And that would be Cora.

“Wha’ happ’ned?” He slurs. Laura sighs, leaning back.

“Truck hit you from the side. Apparently, it wasn’t that damaged, cause the jeep just tipped right over, so it _kept going_. And, boy, you did not want to be around your dad when he caught the guy. I mean, he's _scary_ when he goes all Alpha on someone.” Stiles grins at that. And then it hits him.

“D’rek.” He gets out. And then, louder. “Derek? Is…is he…”

“Look to your left.” Laura smiles softly, and he does, turning his head slowly.

Derek’s laying in the bed next to his, the curtain between them pulled back so they could see each other. His arm is in a bright blue cast, but aside from that and the bandage on his forehead, he looks okay. He seems to be asleep, and there’s a healthy flush on his face. Stiles can’t help but cry a little because –

“I thought I killed him.” He whispered. “I thought –”

“He’s fine.” Laura assures him. “Little banged up, but fine. We had to put you guys in a joint room because he had a fit when they said he couldn’t leave the room to see you. And we knew you probably would too if you woke up without him.” She points to his leg, which he realizes is wrapped in thick white gauze and suspended above the bed. “You, mister, are not as okay. You’re probably gonna have a limp for the rest of your life. We’ll have to get you a cane, you can walk around and bitch at people like Dr. House.”

“Sounds like fun.” He groans. “God, I hate hospitals.”

“You really scared us, Stilinski.” Cora tells him, coming into his line of view. “I don’t lie it when my brothers are hurt, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly. “He –”

“I’m talking about you too, you moron.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh.”

“Cora doesn’t have the best bed side manner.” Laura glares at her. “but, she is right. You’re family Stiles. We all love you too much to see you guys in coffins. Got it?”

“Yeah.” He nods, turning back to look at Derek. “Got it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Hey.” Derek nudged him, pulling the blanket closer around himself. Stiles looked up from the recipe book, taking in the guy’s soot covered face and worried eyes. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”_

_“Wouldn’t dream of it.”_

_“Stiles.” Derek said seriously._

_“I…” He sighed. “I wasn’t going to leave without it.”_

_“Guess we both would have died in there then, because I wasn’t leaving without you.” The look Derek was giving him was so vulnerable and sincere, and Stiles…he didn’t know if he was ready for that. What they had, it was new, and it was so very fragile. He knew he would fuck it up. He’d fucked up many other things in the past, why not this one._

_“You love me.” Stiles blurted, face heating up. Derek sighed._

_“Do you get off and putting things in my mouth?”_

_“I’m not even gonna touch that one.” He smirked, and Derek rolled his eyes. After a few moments of silence, Derek spoke up._

_“I think I do.” Derek whispered. Stiles gulped._

_“Do what?”_

_“Love you.” He looked him in the eyes, determination written all over his face. “I love you, Stiles. I’m in love with you.” His eyes were wide, like he just realized it. And fucking shit, they were doing this._

_“I think I love you too.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey.” Derek calls, and Stiles blinks around the haze of the pain meds to look at him.

“Hey.”

“Never do that again.” Derek smiles softly, and Stiles grins.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/). Come cry over Stiles with me.
> 
> Want me to write anything? [Send me a prompt](http://stupidgenius.tumblr.com/ask).


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